Dear Agony
by Miki Mae
Summary: "Then you could make friends, you probably all have common interests: dying people and stuff." When a life in hospital makes Makoto sick of living and there's an interesting visitor to help him understand it. (MakoHaru, friendship based)


**Agh… I was reading a fic and they just NKAERFAHBRL so I need to vent. Here's some stupid angst one shot bull brought on by immense pain on my part. **

**Listened to **_**Dear Agony**_** by Breaking Benjamin on repeat while writing this, hence the name. Check the song out if you want, it's really amazing.**

I lay there staring at the white-washed walls, white-washed roof, white curtains, white sheets, fucking white _sky_ outside the window. It was strange feeling this amount of animosity toward a colour, but I was just so damn _sick_ of the hospital and its monotonous rooms. Uh-uh, no, it wasn't the hospital making me sick – I did that to myself – but it felt like it was the familiar faces of pity-smile nurses and doctors' fault.

This whole damn place made me _want_ to die. All it held was painful memories: memories of surgeries and drips, memories of blood and hushed conversations behind doors. Did they think I was stupid just because I was confined to bed? I still had my hearing, I could still see the pity in their eyes and it cut deeper than any scalpel could.

_Of course_ I didn't _want_ to die, I wasn't a fucking moron. Perhaps if I could have grown up like a normal person and experienced life for all its shitiness, maybe _then_ death would look like a pleasant option. By I haven't lived, haven't experienced heart break or love. There was _nothing_ for me to escape from – except maybe these bleached walls, but only death could drag me away from _those_.

It might have been funny, _might_ being the operative word, if mom didn't think to bring the twins to see me every weekend. If Ran didn't sneak by to see me after school on Tuesdays to show off her latest work of 'art', that really was only stick figures poorly drawn in messy oil pastels. In truth it was downright _cruel_. Every time the doctors would usher my parents outside to talk about how I was undeniably _dying_, while my younger siblings crawled all over me and giggled about beach trips and the burnt curry mom made the night before.

God, how much I missed something as simple as curry, hot curry, green curry, _any fucking curry_. Anything was better than tubes filled with liquid vitamin soup. They'd tried to force boiled broccoli down my throat once a few weeks back, apparently my stomach didn't agree with my feelings on vitamin soup.

The green tinge of the nurse's face when I blew broccoli chunks all over her meticulous white coat… Yeah, it just might have been funny if I could bring myself to care. Back to tubes. _Tubes, tubes, tubes_. More vitamin soup for me.

And then there was the crying. Fuck, I was so sick of all the _crying_. Every bloody time. It wasn't as if it was new news that I was dying. I've been dying since I turned five; I would have thought they'd be used to it by now. But no, it always came down to tears; tears from mom, tears from dad, tears from _me_, because I couldn't stand the way mom's lips would quiver and _her_ hand would clutch at _my_ hand as if I was going to disappear right there and then.

It all made me so damn _sick_. It felt like I was living on a bloody terrible rollercoaster. I just wanted to pull the emergency break and take a dash for the proverbial toilet, simply escape from this up and down of pain and acceptance then more bloody pain.

'Inherent' they'd said and for the better part of my life, that's what had kept us going; because if mom could live through leukaemia then there was hope for me, surely. They were wrong though, _we_ were wrong. I _was_ going to die. Mom and dad and the doctor's didn't have to like it, damn even _I_ didn't like it – there was skill in fighting cancer for 12 years and I was pretty proud of how far I've made it. But unlike the med-heads and my delusional parents, I knew without a doubt what was coming. There would be no miracle donor to give me a new kidney or some extra bone marrow, no knight in bloody motorcycling gear to give his life for mine. Mom was lucky. Me? Not so much.

After I'd turned thirteen I'd stopped trying, at least when I was alone and with the hospital staff I had. I could hardly show mom that I'd given up on fighting this thing; she was already so worn from watching me get chemo, so broken from having to say good-bye so many times. I wish I could have told her to stop, to switch off the machines and stop wasting her hard earned money on me. I wish I could have told her that she didn't need me anymore, that she'd be okay if I wasn't here to make her cry anymore.

I couldn't though. I was selfish, _just one more day, just one more chance, just one more moment to hug everyone I loved_. It was a continuous cycle of futility that I knew had to end sometime or other. _But not today_, a small voice begged at the back of my mind.

"Mako-chan?" I turn my head ever so slightly, recognising the sound of the night staff's soft, nervous voice and the rather odd nickname he'd given me. He was new in Terminal Care, his blonde hair sticking in every direction, his strange pinkish eyes friendly but frightened in this insane ward. I wanted to tell him that he'd be okay, that _he_ wasn't the one that was dying, because he sure seemed freaked enough for it. "How are you feeling tonight?"

I lift my shoulders in a pathetic attempt at a shrug. My eyes instead snagging on the keys dangling from his hand and the quick, sure steps he took to my bed side despite his clearly being frazzled.

The young man smiles, one of those quick, nervous smiles that fade into a grimace. I'm simply thankful that there's no pity in his strange gaze. "Ai-chan told me you were complaining about discomfort earlier this evening,"

I hum a non-committal reply. The nurse, 'Ai-chan', was more skittish than _this_ nurse; just as short and young but with a shock of silver hair in the most ridiculous haircut I'd ever laid my eyes on. They were an odd duo, which I'd noticed got along swimmingly despite the sombre air around here. Usually Hazuki-san, my night nurse, was a bubbly, energetic man, who always seemed to turn into a panicky wreck just before coming to check on me for the night. What was it about me that made the nurses turn into jittery freaks? _Was it my undying effort to charm them scrubless?_ I thought with a small amount of amusement. Nah, probably the amount of dead-beats around here waiting to succumb to the 'light'…

Hazuki-san stops by the end of my gurney to flip through my files; he abandons the keys for a moment to pick up a pen and scribble lightly on the papers. "Chest pain?" The blonde asks and flashes me a quick view of his magenta eyes; he makes a humming noise that sounds suspiciously disappointed. "How's it now?"

I think about shrugging again but decide I might as well give the nurse his answer. I reach my right hand up with effort and drag the lines of nasal kanula from my face, I can hear how the soft rush of oxygen continues to expel as I draw in a harsh shaky breath through my mouth. "Still hurts like a b-" I bite my tongue and frown, "It still aches."

Hazuki-san flashes me a knowing smile and for the first time, his eyes flash with something akin to humour. _He could be pretty good-looking if he weren't so damn uneasy_, I think with my own amusement. The blonde turns his eyes back to the file, "I'll just check on your morphine until I can grab Ryugazaki-sensei to give you a small look-over."

"Sounds fun," I'm about to let the lines fall back to my face when Hazuki-san _tsk_s and hurries to take charge of the arranging.

"I don't see how anyone can live on these things,"

"I'm dying anyway," I say without thought and wince when the nurse freezes. I flash him somewhat an apologetic smile and relinquish the lines into his hands. The young guy wasn't used to this yet; I guess it made sense, who got used to people dying?

The blonde replaces them, untangling the lines and making sure the oxygen flow is steady. I close my eyes as he checks the morphine drip, shrewd and silent in the wake of my stupid comment. As I lie there I know how horrible my next words will be, but a part of me wants to hear the answer, even if it makes Hazuki-san more nervous and me feel like I was already dead.

"So," I start, keeping my eyes closed and my voice light despite the rasp of my every breath, "How many casualties today?"

Silence fills my ears and I wonder whether Hazuki-san had left already or was simply ignoring me. Either was likely, I wasn't feeling my best tonight and if I were Hazuki-san I'd probably ignore me too.

"About 2000," My eyes pop open in surprise and instead of a nervous blonde, my eyes land on the unfamiliar face of a young raven haired man. "But that includes Samezuka with Iwatobi."

It's my turn to extend the silence and simply stare at the newcomer. Who was this? Not a nurse, surely. Not only was he unfamiliar, but he was dressed down in jeans and a fluffy-looking grey hoodie, no stoic white scrubs in sight. He seemed out of place in his dark attire compared to the bright white room. Yet he also looked comfortable as if he spent most of his time chilling at the ends of terminal patients' beds.

I frown tugs at my brow and I sigh; I wasn't great at guessing games and this felt like it would turn into one at any moment. I give the raven a hard look, willing him to say something. The silence grows and after a moment it starts to annoy me, usually I was good with silence, but not now. My weak arm rises to perform a come-hither motion that takes much too much energy for such a simple gesture. "Who are you?" There wasn't a blunter way to ask and if there was a means to make it sound less hostile I wasn't aware of that method.

The raven, surprisingly, comes closer at my motioning and takes a seat in the worn chair next to my bed. He sinks into the armchair and I take a moment to appreciate the slightest flicker of discomfort in his eyes before he blinks and the emotion vanishes. Instead, I find myself staring into the deepest blue eyes I've ever seen and it makes the chest pains I'd been fighting the whole day worse for a single second.

The man has a slender build, seeming so small in that faded green chair that my mom had fallen asleep in more times than I can count. His eyes truly are striking, but they were emotionless, not necessarily cold, yet definitely blank. It caused fear to skitter down my spine and chills rose on my forearms. I'd seen all kinds of people come and go from these rooms, but this man, who looked young enough to be my age, wasn't like anything I'd seen before.

For some reason his lack of facial expression woke agony in me. Was this how people looked when they've lost hope? I didn't want that. My lips quiver, because it almost feels like the man could be telling me _my_ time was up.

"I'm here to take you away,"

Breath hitches in my throat and suddenly it feels like tears are going to burst from my eyes. If this was his idea of a joke, it was revolting and twisted. "So what?" I demand, my voice quivering and dry, "You're supposed to be Death or something?"

"Yes," Came the lacklustre reply.

Even though I'd asked that question, the answer still felt like a slap to my face and my fingers curl into the sheets covering my weak and pathetic body_. I don't want to continue this conversation_, I decide miserably, _I don't want to stare into those beautifully eerie eyes and hear that Death was there to take me_. I so wanted to believe that it was a lie, that this was the raven's warped humour, but everything in me, from my newly grown three-inch long hair down to my bony feet knew otherwise. Air caught at my lips and I struggled to drag it in properly. "Death, huh?"

The raven gives the smallest of nods, one I might have missed if I weren't staring at him with sudden hawk eyes.

_Hah_, I think and a bitter smile tugs at my lips, this _was_ kind of hilarious. Who would have guessed? "So you're the one," I pause and draw in a breath followed by the release of a humourless chuckle, "I was expecting a white tunnel or a shinigami, _you're_ kind of a surprise."

Death looks at me and I can't seem to shake the idea that behind that stoic face there was more, well _hell_, there _had_ to be more, the guy was _Death_! He was probably losing his mind in glee behind that blank expression, another soul to drag away from life.

"I am preferable to the others," the raven says and it sounds eerie in such a monotonous voice.

_God, Makoto, you're not living in some badly produced horror movie, this is _real. My lips move silently and I don't take my eyes from 'Death'. After a moment I muster up a little bit of humour. "So Death is cocky too, huh?"

The man's head tilts to the side, turning his face away and I'm deprived of that brilliant yet chilling gaze.

He seems to say something, but I miss it. "What was that?"

When he turns his face back he looks positively uncomfortable, his cerulean eyes narrowed and his slight pink lips pouting ever so slightly, "That's a fruitless observation,"

The strangest thing happens, laughter bubbles up my dry throat and it emerges sounding like a dying whale, but despite how much it pains I can't repress it. After a second of shock, Death's mouth smoothed out and his eyes soften to look mildly amused. To me he seems to turn slightly human and the fear that been clawing at my spine dissipates into an annoying itch.

"I guess it is fine, you know?" I state suddenly, my laughter dying down into agonising coughs. I watch Death, how composed he looked in the midst of my insanity. "It makes sense that you'd look human, makes it easier," I frown, "or harder, I'm not too sure."

Death's eyes flutter closed then open, "This is not my body." I stay silent, not wanting to have a panic attack so soon after calming myself down. "This boy…Takumi Akame, he died earlier this morning."

My chest aches for the boy with beautiful eyes and a short life, "What happened to him?"

Death makes a small sigh sound like a huge chore, "He fell down the stairs leaving his apartment, he was late for an appointment."

"Was it painful?" I ask softly, almost whispering.

"Takumi-san broke his neck, he didn't even realise his pain before I took him."

Unconsciously I reach out a hand toward the raven, it's a difficult task as my whole body feels weighted down with lead but it seems as if it's worth it. Death must have understood my silent concern because he leans forward in the chair, close enough that my fingers can reach out and touch his neck. The pale, unblemished skin is warm under my fingers and for a moment it sends my mind reeling at the sheer weirdness of the situation. But I let my fingers dance across the soft skin and reach behind to gently probe the vertebrae there. They're all perfectly in place and it makes an awed-shocked sound escape my throat.

"Amazing," I utter and my eyes lock with deep blue in fascination. "That's amazing," I repeat, still as soft, but with more conviction.

Death blinks and pulls away from me, he lifts a hand to where mine had just been and the smallest of creases appears between his brows. "Not really," he states blandly.

But my mouth is stretching into the kind of excited grin I haven't worn in years and as tiring as it all is, I try and reach out again, "It is," I assure brightly, my hand continues to hang in the air between us until I can no longer keep it there and it falls to the mattress next to me. "That's a pretty cool power you have there, Death,"

The man scowls at me, suddenly hostile, "I _do_ have a name,"

I probably would have laughed again, in fact my chest shook with small tremors of humour, but I was too tired to actually comply with the urge. "You do?"

"We _all_ do," he snaps, after a moment his face falls back into that apathetic expression and it almost seems as if the outburst had never occurred, "I'm Haruka,"

A girl's name, like mine? A low hum crawls up my throat and I fight the urge to wince at the pain, "That's a nice name, I'll just call you, Haru," _Damn formality, this is the end of my life; I can do what I want_.

"That's rather familiar," the way he says it makes me want to roll my eyes.

"You'll be taking my life, won't you, Haru?" I look at him with mild regret. "I think that deserves some familiarity." After a moment of silence he nods and I give a small smile. I _was_ sick of this life, but there was so much I had never done, so much I wanted to do. "So when are you going to do it?"

"Tonight," he states simply and at my pointed stare the creases between his brows reappear. "Later,"

A bitter-sweet smile tugs at my lips and I lean my head back, "After my family visits, okay? I want to say good-bye," Death nods hesitantly but it's more than I could hope for, so I close my eyes and wait for visiting hours to arrive.

At eight o'clock I'm woken from slumber by shrill cries of 'Onii-chan' and the sudden tackling of small limbs across my shoulders and stomach. I wake with a bleary moan and need to blink a couple dozen times before my eyes can focus on my family. Although I know it's impossible it feels like the twins had grown immensely in the three short days since I'd last seen them, I lift my heavy limbs to pat both Ren and Ran on the head in a motion that reminded me of having a cat when I was younger.

A disappointed _tsk_ing follows the twins' attempts to climb on the bed with me and mom's suddenly there to drag them away from the possibility of pulling out the IVs and tubes attached to me. I flash her a grateful smile and before I even ask she's pouring me a glass of water and shuffling to pack pillows behind me so I can sit up easier. The action warms my paining chest and I nearly launch myself at her for a hug, instead she leans down and places a chaste kiss on my forehead before wiping at my sallow cheek with a thumb.

"Can I do anything else for you, sweetie?" She asks tenderly and I shake my head, we'd long ago abandoned with the question of 'how are you', that query had lost its weight at some point. She steps to the side so she can open her purse and it leaves a gap for the twins to hog my attention.

"Onii-chan, onii-chan!" Ren started, nearly climbing over his sister's head to be the first to gain their older brother's attention. I smile sympathetically and tug at Ran's hand gently, telling her to go to the other side of the bed; she complies with a huff, annoyed that she had to be the one to move and not Ren.

Soon the twins were perched on either side of me, talking over each other in rapid fire remarks that made it difficult for me to think; all the while mom sat in that chair next to the bed and watched in glowing pride of her children.

In all honestly I'd pretty much forgotten about Haru – Death – until I looked off into the corner and saw him leaning against the wall with blue eyes trained on the family scene. It made me catch my breath and I glance around my family in concern but no one paid the raven any heed and it made the tension ease from my muscles. I offer the man a small smile, but he turns his head away and I sigh.

I used what little strength I have to extend my arms and the babbling twins immediately curl into my sides, their small faces warm against the thin hospital gown. Their chatter dies down until all I can hear is their breaths and the slight shuffling of feet out in the corridor. It feels like peace settles over us and I could nearly cry at how happy I am to have them in my arms like this. In the armchair mom closes her eyes and I watch how her lips part around an exhale; her fingers curl into the fabric of her skirt. She's trying not to cry again. My throat closes up and I bite my lip to stave off the moan that wants to give away my torment.

I close my eyes, imagining a world where everything was different. Our moment of sweet, blissful silence is broken by Ran who whispers against my chest. "Onii-chan," I open my eyes and our gazes lock, "I'll be sad when you leave," on the other side of my chest Ren gives a supporting nod and I find it incredibly difficult to shove down the sobs. "But you mustn't be scared, okay?"

My lips start to quiver, I know my eyes are blurring with tears but I can't stop them, so I nod and press a kiss to both my siblings' foreheads. "I won't be, for you," I pause and close my eyes, open them, and my eyes swing across the room to Haru for a split second. I look back at the twins, their moistening cheeks, hear mom trying to stifle her cries in the background, "I need you to look after mom. You need to be strong for her and dad,"

Ran's face crumples and she hides it against my chest while Ren gives a firm nod even while his lips are trembling and his nose starts leaking.

"I don't want you to go!" Ran cries and I can feel her tears leaking into the hospital gown, her hands curl into the fabric of the sheets and it makes my heart crumble. "Don't go, onii-chan,"

With her exclamation Ren starts to howl, his face turning red and his mouth hanging open to reveal where he'd recently lost a tooth. "Don't go, onii-chan," he repeats his sister and all I can do I try and wrap my arms tighter around them and hope I don't have to go just yet.

I want to reassure them that I won't go away, but it would be a lie and a promise I could not keep. So I settle for murmuring that I love them, over and over and over again until it feels like I don't know any other words or don't care to.

After what feels like years, the sobs die down to gentle sniffles that the twins insist on nuzzling into my chest. They each gently cradle one of my hands, tracing their small fingers across equally small scars and IV needles. Eventually mom stands from her position and ushers the smaller ones to let go of me before they fall asleep like that. They comply reluctantly, both leaning up to pepper my face in innocent kisses before muttering 'good night' and climbing from the gurney.

Mom leans over and carefully wipes away the residue of tears from my cheeks, she sighs. "I hate leaving you; every time I go I get so scared that you won't be here when I come back." My heart stutters alarmingly and my lips quiver, mom leans down and presses her lips to my forehead, lingering and fussing over a few strands of hair that stuck out waywardly. "Your father couldn't make it; he's only coming back from his business trip tomorrow morning."

I nod. "Tell him I love him," I watch mom's eyes grow dull, she's aged so much. I want to tell her to relax a little. "Don't give him a hard time; Otou-san's only doing what he can to support us." I squeeze the hand she'd wormed into mine. "It'll work out, you'll see,"

She sighs and gives me an answering squeeze before straightening up and giving my head an affectionate pat. "I really do love you, Makoto,"

My lips twist into a genuine smile, "I love you too, Oka-san,"

She gives me one last peck on my cheek before hurrying after the twins in a mad dash.

"You have a nice family," My head whips to the side and I watch how Haru pushes away from the wall, his apathetic face slightly twisted in confusion.

"They _are_ nice," I agree and sigh, my throat feels dry again. "Do you mind pouring me some more water?"

Death moves to comply with my question without a word, as I watch him I notice how fluidly he moves and wonder if it's Takumi-san or Haru who owned the trait. The facial expressions were purely Haru, I figured, and so were the awkward short sentences. Was there anything left of Takumi Akame in there? I wasn't too bothered if there wasn't, truthfully – although I had no reason to believe otherwise – I thought that maybe this stoic Haru suited the body better than a bubbly, talkative Takumi.

He hands me the glass of water and I gulp most of it down with only a small cringe when I try to swallow. "Thanks,"

Haru watches me in silence and it's unnerving, I'm too tired from the emotional scenes to reprimand him for staring. Finally he shifts and perches on the side of the bed, looking strange yet again in such a sombre surrounding. "Are you ready now, Makoto?"

I stare into the clear glass, hoping to see something, anything, that would tell me the answer to that question. "Not really," I murmur and look up at Haru, his brows crease. "I've been slowly dying for 12 years, Haru, but I don't want to _actually_ die. Even if the pain is bad and it makes my family cry a little, I want to _live_. That's selfish of me isn't it?"

For a moment he doesn't answer, but eventually he sighs, "You're human, so it can't be helped,"

A small vibration shakes my chest in a soundless chuckle, "I guess so, yeah." I try to snuggle down in the bed but I remember mom shoving some pillows behind me. I give Haru a sorry smile, I feel so pitiful. "Do you think you could help me with these?" Again the raven complies and it feels so honest that I nearly think I've made my first friend in Death. "So, do you have any friends?" I ask as he helps me rearrange myself.

Death gives me a weird droll stare that makes my lips twitch into a smile.

"You're really not one for talking are you?" as soon the query leaves my lips I sigh, because I already know that answer. "I can't imagine having to hang around dying people the whole time." My lips twist down, "It's hard enough to be dying around living people,"

Haru sighs and I give him a questioning glance, "It's all I know,"

"But it's still pretty sucky isn't it?" Death shrugs in answer, he probably couldn't tell the difference anyway. "How do you manage to lead millions of people's souls away every day? Do you have some super powers or something?"

"You talk a lot." I flash him a grin and he sighs again, "No, I have no super powers and I don't lead away every soul. Iwatobi is my district."

My eyes widen, "So there are more of you?" I shake my head slightly, "Then you _could_ make friends, you probably all have common interests: dying people and stuff."

Haru rolls his eyes is such an expressive facial change that I nearly pat myself on the back for it. "I have no reason to answer that,"

"You seem like the shy type," I utter. My fingers curl in the bed sheets once again, it would have been nice to have a friend, even if it was shy Haru for a little longer. His eyes narrow and I know he doesn't appreciate my comment, but I don't let it phase me. I glance around the room, with the sterile, boring environment, nothing remotely personal except the card lying next to my bed that the twins had scribbled in. "Where do I go after this?"

He blinks owlishly, which seems kind of comical considering, "I don't understand,"

My eyes close for a moment and I push myself further into the mattress. I can't believe I'm going to say this, "I think I might miss these white-wash walls." Eyes open and focus on Haru yet again, "Where am I going after death? Heaven? Hell? Someplace in between?"

"That's not for me to say,"

A simpering smile tugs at my lips and I want to cry all over again, "Of course it isn't," I want to rip out the nasal kanula and scream at the top of my lungs. "Can you at least tell me this…are you an angel or a demon or something else?"

Haru turns his face away and damn if that doesn't make my sudden urge to cry worse. "I can't say,"

"Yeah," I whisper and squeeze my eyes closed, "Yeah, I guess so," I drag in a heavy breath, "Is it time now?"

"Soon,"

My lips tremble and I bite down on the lower one, even though it's chapped and dry it still pains beneath my gnawing teeth. "Do you do this for all the dying people? That'd take unimaginably long,"

The soft sound of rustling sheets fills my ears, "No."

"Then why me?" _Why torture me?_

"Because when a person dies they have people to say good-bye to, not everyone has the time to do it. You do though," I open my eyes and Haru is back in mom's chair, those usually empty blue eyes are bright with emotion, "Death hurts the people you leave behind more than you, yourself, saying good-bye can make it easier on the ones you leave behind."

A tear leaks out the corner of my eye and I choke on a small chuckle, "That's surprisingly deep, Haru."

The raven shrugs his shoulders and his eyes turn dull again, "You should go to sleep now,"

"It's time, yeah?" If it is even possible, I wiggle to become even more comfortable. I look at the man; _death hurts the people you leave behind_…Does that include Death itself? "Hey, could you hold my hand until I fall asleep?"

Haru gives me a small frown but leans forward to take my hand, his fingers are surprisingly gentle and I close my eyes at the contact. I clutch the limb as hard as I dare.

"I've spent my whole life in places like this, but I never thought that you'd come to take me away."

"I've spent my whole existence in places like this," he responds and I can't help but smile, "But I always knew I'd be here to take you away,"

"You probably did," I let out a sigh, "Is this the first time?"

And for once Haru knows exactly what I'm saying, "I've spent a lot of time around your family, but life always seemed to hold you back from me."

I grin and squeeze his hand, "I'm glad," we drift off into silence and I can hear the shuffling of feet in the corridor, Hazuki-san should be here soon to give me my sleeping tablets. It's strange how calm I feel suddenly, maybe it's because I know when I die I won't be alone, or maybe because I've finally accepted what was happening.

My eyes feel heavier and my mouth sags open a little at the tightness in my chest, I really _was_ tired. Haru's hand is a light pressure against mine and as my fingers grow lax I worry that he'll let go. "Don't let go," I grumble urgently, too quiet for my own ears to hear.

"I won't,"

"Thank you, Haru," I breathe and my mind begins to fade, the weight of sleep making my body exceptionally heavy.

For a moment I'm suspended in time, I remember how when I was 10 years old mom and dad missed their first ever Friday visit. How they came Saturday morning carrying two squirming pink bodies, Ren and Ran, mom told me and I laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. But when dad put Ren in my hands the baby grew silent and gazed at me with confusion before reaching out to my face. I let him hold my finger and suck at its tip for a good minute before his eyes drew heavy and he fell asleep. I swear as sleep claimed me too, I could still feel his small hands around my fingers.

**Thanks for reading.**


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